


crawling back to you

by onlyshe



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Disassociation, Emotional Baggage, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Anguish, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 10:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyshe/pseuds/onlyshe
Summary: "Maybe he knows Hinata better than Hinata knows himself. Maybe that's why Hinata always crawls back to him at the end of a fortnight, melting into a sobbing mess in the embrace of slender fingers."komaeda spends a drowsy night pacifying hinata's troubled mind.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	crawling back to you

**Author's Note:**

> title frm "do i wanna know" by arctic monkeys  
> set a year or two after sdrv2 idk
> 
> enjoy:)

Hinata slips into the cottage without a sound. The lightness of his step betrays the heaviness settled in his head and heart. An intangible darkness looms around his figure, the chill of the night doing little to alleviate this unsettlement. 

As he steps from the cool air into the warmth of the cottage, a small sigh escapes him. The hour is impossibly late, yet, upon the bed sits the dim silhouette of Komaeda Nagito. Through the dark, Hinata can make out the slight curve of his lips and the furrow of his brow.

His shadowy figure assumes a rigid, tensed shape against the soft moonlight streaming in through the window. It paints him in a languid collection of cool greys and eerie whites. He shifts forward and the moon catches in his swampy eyes, pictures of stars reflecting across the murky waters for a fleeting moment.

He appears nearly phantasmic in the depths of the room.

"Hinata-kun…" Komaeda's voice is soft, balancing on the line of warmth and worry. He trails off, a litany of unsaid conclusions hanging heavy in the air. 

Hinata casts his gaze away from Komaeda's own, the weight of the world finally beginning to crush him. His eyes stick to hardwood floors whilst grey-green sticks to him. 

Trepidation glimmers in Komaeda's eyes. Months spent loving Hinata has imparted the ability to read between the hardened lines of his face. He knows better than anyone when Hinata is drawing near collapse. 

Maybe he knows Hinata better than Hinata knows himself. Maybe that's why Hinata always crawls back to him at the end of a fortnight, melting into a sobbing mess in the embrace of slender fingers.

He knows, as he sits there scrutinizing every inch of Hinata's being, that the brunet is beginning to unravel beneath his gaze. He knows, as his eyes smooth over Hinata's own averted pair, that something in this unshakable routine must change. 

Hinata's face is jaded from the wear of eons spent rebuilding Jabberwock in the image of a bountiful future. His eyebrows have permanently crooked themselves into sternness, the corners of his lips always subconsciously pulled down into a slight frown. Mismatched eyes are alike in the ever-present shadows beneath them, dark with exhaust and overwork.

"Komaeda," breathes Hinata, the three syllables blotting the air with something dark, "I…"

He brings his eyes back to Komaeda's, and within them swirls a deep pain. 

"Please," he whispers, "let me spend the night with you."

Komaeda nods once, patting the space on the bed next to him. He doesn't miss the way Hinata stumbles over his own feet in his rush to the bed, nor does he miss the moonlight that catches on unshed tears.

Hinata practically throws himself into Komaeda's lap instead of the bed. He had missed being able to hold Hinata, missed being able to run artificial fingers through choppy locks, missed being able to love Hinata, _missed_ Hin— 

Kamukura Izuru. 

He hadn't missed Kamukura. Kamukura, who had taken so much from the world, yet inadvertently blessed fifteen young adults with the promise of rebirth, was a part of Hinata that he hadn't missed.

In many ways, Hinata is still the same as he had been in the simulation. He's still a bit tightly-wound in stressful situations, blunt to a fault and endlessly patient of others' woes. In many ways, Kamukura's influence still seeps into Hinata's every step, a mechanical precision present in his every move. 

Nobody can blame Hinata for struggling to come to terms with this new version of himself. Still the same boy, but instead blessed (burdened?) with the hope (despair?) of a world he was responsible for ruining. Still the same boy, but haunted by the shadows of a past he could barely remember, dreams of a life full of brimstone and blood chipping away at his resolve.

He's tried to bury the past. He's tried to bury it under mountains of work around the island, tried to bury it in the deepest recesses of his mind, tried to bury it with overgrown bangs and hazel contacts. No matter how hard he tries, though, the shadow of Kamukura always manages to catch up to him, eclipsing him wholly in a desolate haze.

It's what frustrates him most. Despite countless months spent trying to ditch his past, there are still times where Kamukura gets the jump on him.

It's obvious whenever the phantasm of his past returns. Hinata grows more withdrawn. His words grow terse and short, his eyes glazing over as he sometimes babbles textbook definitions in response to simple questions. The shadows under his eyes grow impossibly darker, the deep hollows a testament to his terrors.

Hinata knows, same as anyone else on the island, that he'll never be able to bury the past entirely. Even still, he tries his damndest to do so. This determination to rid of scarlet-stained days is what makes it all the more painful when they ultimately get the best of him.

Strong arms snake around a slender waist. There's hesitance behind the motion. It breaks Komaeda's heart.

The future is hazy. It always has been, ever since the moment they stepped foot upon the campus of Hope's Peak Academy all those years ago. It still is, even now that they've long since 'graduated' and are striving to create their own futures. 

Whatever that means.

"Hinata-kun," Komaeda tries, his voice still soft and full of worry, "this is unlike you."

Hinata knocks their foreheads together, sighing deeply. His breath tickles Komaeda's nose.

There isn't a thing Komaeda wouldn't give to be able to pick through Hinata's brain, to dig through layers of grey and white matter until he discovers what made Hinata tick. All he wants is to be able to understand him. 

For as long as they've known each other, all Komaeda has wanted is to be blessed with the gift of understanding the threads that hold together Hinata Hajime. All he has wanted is to be able to break through his hardened exterior, to see into his heart like no other man ever has.

"I'm so scared."

Komaeda's heart breaks a little more. He loops his arms around Hinata's shoulders, his lips quirking into a small smile when Hinata leans further into his touch.

"Of what?" It's a question with many answers. 

"Of everything." Hinata's voice is impossibly small. 

He pulls his head away from Komaeda's. They stare at each other for a long moment. Komaeda's heart shatters when he realizes both of Hinata's eyes are hazel.

"Oh, Hajime…" he whispers.

Hinata buries his head in Komaeda's shoulder, shouting hoarsely into his shirt. He shudders and sobs into Komaeda's shoulder, the moonlit cottage reverberating with heartbroken cries.

Hinata had been resculpted in the image of an Olympian. The ichor running through his bloodstream had once hardened him into a king of the scythe and the sword. All he wants now is to regain his humanity. His selfless devotion to the welfare of the island and its inhabitants is a testament to such a sentiment.

Yet, no matter how hard he tries, he feels like he'll never be able to truly rid himself of false godhood. It's a pitiful cycle, he realizes, working himself to the bone in the name of redemption, only to have his efforts prove fruitless in the wake of murderous memories.

But it's an inescapable cycle, one fuelled so wholly by the hope that he'll be able to rid himself of his past if he runs fast enough, if he builds enough walls, if he tries hard enough, if he if h _e if he if—!_

Komaeda rubs tender circles into Hinata's back with one hand, the other busied in choppy brown locks. Duly, he makes note of how the strands seem longer. Hinata must be trying to hide his scar.

"Komaeda," whimpers Hinata, voice muffled by the other boy's shoulder, "Komaeda, Komaeda, Komaeda…"

Komaeda tenses. Hinata shakes against him.

"Are you real?" 

"Yes."

"Am I still me?"

Komaeda returns to resting his arms on Hinata's shoulders. "You are Hinata Hajime."

Slowly, Hinata withdraws himself from Komaeda's shoulder. He's still trembling. Both of his eyes are stained red with emotion, his face blotchy with the same cherry tones. 

"I am not Kamukura Izuru, right?" It's a pointless question. They both know this.

Hesitance. "You are. But you aren't."

Hinata's grip on Komaeda's waist tightens as he hangs his head. "I know."

"Then why did you ask?" Another pointless question.

Another beat of hesitance. "Do you… see me as him?"

Komaeda pauses to mull this over.

A loaded question. It's impossible for anyone to see Hinata as the boy they had come to know in the simulation now that he stands before them as a minor deity. He's still largely the same, but the warmth of his core has become tainted by the chill of artificiality.

Kamukura's touch lingers within Hinata own. It's evident in the way he manages the island chores and activities all the way down to the way he pours himself a cup of coffee. It's evident in the way his face assumes a mask of boredom whenever he's lounging around. It's evident in the way his words sometimes fall much flatter than he intends them to. 

It's impossible to see Hinata as _just_ himself when he is an entity much greater than any of them combined. How are they supposed to think of him as just Hinata Hajime when he is able to breathe new life into everything he touches? 

"I see you for you." 

Hinata knits his brows together.

Komaeda worries his bottom lip. 

Even despite the breadth of Hinata's abilities, everyone is able to still see him for who he truly is. They entrust him with the brunt of the management tasks, not only because of his talents, but because they all feel as if he is best fit for the job. Hinata, despite holding such power, still possesses the heart of a man; he is still flesh and blood, still able to _feel,_ much unlike the bored god that came before him.

Komaeda unhooks his arms from Hinata's shoulders and instead loops them around his chest. He pulls him a bit closer, his thin lips pulled into a sad smile as Hinata leans into his embrace.

"Answer me this, Hinata-kun," says Komaeda after a long moment of silence, "How do you see yourself?"

Hinata blinks twice. Komaeda's stomach churns at the glassy pair of hazel. 

"I…" 

Komaeda squeezes him a little tighter, eliciting a long sigh from the brunet.

"I hate everything about who I am, Komaeda. I hate everything I was, everything I am, and everything I will become. I see myself as someone who has done horrible things and needs to do anything to repent. I see myself as someone unworthy of leading you all because I'm not strong enough, and never will be strong enough, to get rid of Izuru."

The mere mention of Kamukura's name stains the atmosphere of the cottage with an impalpable dread. 

Tears are still streaming down Hinata's face as he presses on, "I just want to forget about him, to move on as if he was never part of me. I try to tell myself I'm not defined by his actions and whatever parts of him are still in me, but I know it's not true. I can't fucking bury him and it's…" 

His nails dig into Komaeda's back as he cries out, voice breaking under the weight of his emotion, "It's pissing me off!"

"I just want to leave him behind. I just want to move toward a better future, but I feel like I can't when moving forward means he's moving with me. I don't want this. I don't want to be Kamukura Izuru, I just want…" 

He sobs. "I just want…"

Hinata can't find the resolve to continue. 

Komaeda pulls Hinata flush against his chest, and the brunet once again buries his head in his shoulder. He cries quietly this time, though he still trembles in Komaeda's arms.

"Hajime," he says slowly, "do you want me to be honest with you?"

Voice muffled, Hinata replies, "Don't hold back."

"You're never going to be able to completely leave him behind. The moment you realize that is the moment you'll be freed from these depressive ruts."

Hinata tenses in his embrace. Komaeda holds him tighter. 

"You can't spend every day stuck in the past. It's going to kill you. You need to realize that in order to defeat Kamukura, you must come to terms with the fact that you'll never truly be able to be rid of him. You need to be able to love yourself for who you are— and he is an integral part of who you are."

Komaeda takes in a deep breath, steeling himself to continue. "You can't keep drowning yourself in work to ignore confrontation, Hinata-kun. It's killing you. I can't stand seeing you tear yourself apart in this misguided pursuit of contentment."

Hinata pulls away from Komaeda and loops his arms around his shoulders. Komaeda mimics the movement, though he instead brings his left hand to hang in the space between their faces.

"Do you see this?" asks Komaeda, curling and flexing the prosthetic digits.

Hinata nods.

"This is the product of Kamukura Izuru, but it is also the product of Hinata Hajime. His wit and your compassion allowed for you to find the resolve to rid me of a dead arm and give me another chance. His abilities do not serve as burdens. They've helped refurbish a long gone hope within me and many of the others."

He brings his hand up to Hinata's forehead and brushes aside his bangs, gaze softening as it lands on the scar just beneath his hairline. Featherlight fingers slow dance across it.

Hinata's eyes flutter to a close, his breaths uneven as tears seep from his eyes. 

"You are not defined by him. You are still Hinata Hajime. Kamukura Izuru is a part of Hinata Hajime, but he is not what defines you. You're still the Hinata Hajime we have all fallen in love with, not the Kamukura Izuru who caused the world to fall."

He lets his hand fall away from Hinata's face.

"You're still the Hajime I fell in love with."

Slowly, Hinata opens his eyes. 

As soon as he does, he tilts his head up and takes out his contact lens. Stunned, Komaeda watches as Hinata hesitates for a moment before tossing it behind him. 

“It’d just be meaningless to keep trying to cover it up if I’m gonna try to come to terms with myself, right?” 

Mismatched eyes bore straight into murky green.

It strikes Komaeda, then, just how exhausted Hinata looks. 

“Thank you.”

Komaeda returns his hand to Hinata's face. 

Hinata's gaze is unwavering as Komaeda parts his bangs and once more skims weightless fingers across the scar. 

The scar tissue burns beneath synthetic fingers. The gesture is all too intimate, too personal for either boy to handle. The cottage air has begun to suffocate them with the taste of cinder, both Hinata and Komaeda burning and undoing against the other's touch.

"I'm scared," whispers Hinata, the unease in his voice extinguishing the flames in the air, "I'm a coward. What if I can't pick myself up and I start running again?"

Komaeda's hand falls away. 

"Then, we'll all be here for you like you were for us."

Hinata's face is still largely expressionless, but imparted in his eyes is the beginnings of a newfound hope. 

Komaeda pulls him into a hug for the thousandth time that night. Hinata is burning in his arms, the embers of his starlit core licking at the slender digits that contain him. 

"...thank you."

"I…"

The words die out in his throat, a million unsaid endings hanging dead in the small space between them. Neither boy can find it within themselves to bridge the distance.

Instead, they sit entangled in one another, their gazes unwavering on the other's face.

Hinata's face is underscored with exhaust and gloom, the downcurve of his brows and redness of his eyes a testament to his suffering. Mismatched eyes are cauldrons of uncertainty, though on their lustered surfaces bubbles a fresh sense of determination.

Komaeda, too, wears a wary expression. Absentminded fingers trace nonsensical patterns into the breadth of Hinata's shoulders. His thoughts trail as his eyes peer into Hinata's own. 

Thin lips are pressed into a frown. He wonders how long it'll take Hinata to regain his sense of self, how long the fight for acceptance with last. He wonders if Hinata will be able to keep his head level enough to make it the whole way, or if he will end up crumbling and crawling back to Komaeda for help.

He sighs. 

He wouldn't be opposed to helping Hinata embark on such a treacherous journey. He wouldn't be opposed to letting Hinata cry on his shoulder for many nights more, wouldn't be opposed to holding the brunet in his arms as he doles out blunt advice and touches of comfort in the dead of the night.

He wouldn't be opposed to taking Hinata's hand in his, racing down the beach and off into an uncertain future.

He pulls Hinata a little bit closer, and Hinata sighs loftily into his embrace. His heart flutters.

With his left index, Komaeda traces _mirai_ into Hinata's back.

**Author's Note:**

> written with this gorgeous piece in mind ;; https://twitter.com/nenanugget/status/1341428539271372800
> 
> thankyou, as always, for reading my work:)<3  
> 


End file.
